


Try Again

by Try2CatchMe



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, Reincarnation, if you want it to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Try2CatchMe/pseuds/Try2CatchMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy standing at his door could not have been older than sixteen. He was dripping from the onslaught of rain, shivering under a jacket that was plastered to him like a second skin. He'd clearly just gone through a growth spurt, if the gangliness of his limbs was anything to go by, and he had another one coming if he was going to match his previous stature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of an ill-advised Merlin marathon, I hope you enjoy.

Merlin thought a lot about the moment when he and Arthur would meet again. It was sometimes the only thing that made him keep going, these hundreds of years.

The world had changed so rapidly, yet so slowly. He'd travelled some, but always stayed near to Avalon. He found it easier to travel as an old man than a young one, as paradoxical as that seemed. In the old days, it was easier to be a young man who could fight. But now, people were far more willing to help an old man than a young one. He had to travel, though, because even as a young man those around him would start to wonder why he never seemed to die.

He didn't know how or when Arthur would return. He'd seen the King's name change from history, to legend, to myth. He'd seen all the horrors come across the land and thought now, surely _now_ was the land's greatest time of need.

It seemed like the time would never come, but he still liked to imagine.

Every situation he could concoct had come across his mind at some point, or so he thought. Perhaps Arthur would return from the Lake. Maybe he'd be born and raised in a prominent family and be just as much of a prat as before.

One thing was always constant in his mind, though. He was always there when Arthur returned.

Which was why it was such a shock when he showed up at Merlin's door one night.

Merlin had a small cottage in the 'scenic' countryside around Lake Avalon. It had been so strange to see countryside reduced to a novelty. There was one handy thing about being around for the invention of the stock market, though, and that was that he never worried for money.

But his cottage was _far_ off the beaten path. Someone actually had to make an effort to get there, which was precisely why he had chosen this location.

Fortunately, when he was in his own home he had no need to be eighty years old. And he'd always been able to use the cover that he was visiting his grandfather whenever someone questioned him.

The night the knock on the door came, it was pouring outside and Merlin was huddled in a hoodie and several blankets in front of the fire. It wasn't that he had anything against central heating, it was just that magic and electricity didn't always interact well. Normally he could keep his home perfectly comfortable, but sometimes one simply needed to feel the warmth of a hearth.

The knock had startled him so much that he almost fell off the chair where he'd been dozing. His first thought was that if someone had wanted to come visit, they could have at least called ahead. His second was that it was two in the morning and no good could come of a knock on the door at this hour.

Or... so he thought.

But when he opened the door, holding a pot behind his back just in case he needed to clobber a burglar (because using non-lethal magic on someone who could go around talking about it was a terrible idea), he was very swiftly proven wrong.

Merlin had never had the opportunity to know Arthur as a teenager. He had often given thanks for the fact that, by the time he met the then-Prince, he had grown into himself and was mostly angst-free. Well, unless Camelot was on the brink of destruction, but a little angst was justified then.

The boy standing at his door could not have been older than sixteen. He was dripping from the onslaught of rain, shivering under a jacket that was plastered to him like a second skin. He'd clearly just gone through a growth spurt, if the gangliness of his limbs was anything to go by, and he had another one coming if he was going to match his previous stature.

His hair was plastered to his head and darkened by rainwater, but Merlin knew it would be blonde. The boy's eyes, however, were the same blue Merlin had seen the first time he met the prince and the last time the king had closed his eyes.

They were also widened in fear and surprise.

"I- you can't-" his voice had clearly deepened, but it wasn't yet the timber Arthur had once possessed, "You're not supposed to be-"

Arthur- and it was clearly Arthur- took a half step back, looked about to bolt, so Merlin did the first thing that popped into his mind.

He stepped back, setting the pot on a table out of sight, and opened the door wider, "You're soaked. Come in, there's a fire and I'll put the kettle on."

Immediately, he had to fight the urge to slam his head into a wall because he'd never wanted the first thing he said to Arthur when he saw him again to be 'I'll put the kettle on'.

But if anything, it seemed to put Arthur at ease and, with careful, halting steps, he made his way inside.

"You're not supposed to be real," he finally finished as Merlin stripped the soaking jacket from his shoulders and nudged him toward the fire. "It was just dreams."

"Dreams are rarely just dreams, I've found." Merlin tried to keep his tone light as he wrapped blankets around Arthur's shoulders. The blonde had folded himself onto the end of the couch nearest the fire and looked very much like he was trying to go into shock. "What did you dream?"

"You can't be Merlin." Arthur said, curling his fingers around the blankets and staring blankly at the far wall. Well, at least he still ignored Merlin. Good to see some things would never change, "That's not possible."

"You'd be surprised what's possible," the sorcerer replied, laying a hand carefully on top of the blankets and muttering an incantation under his breath. The blankets warmed slightly and Arthur finally met his gaze.

"Your eyes..." he inhaled sharply, "You're really-"

Merlin smiled, "Good to see you again, Arthur."

The blonde shook his head, "No, people calling me Prince Arthur was always just a joke. And then Lance changed it to 'King' and-"

"You have a friend named Lance?"

Well, Arthur's 'you're an idiot, Merlin' look certainly hadn't changed, "He's not _Lancelot_."

Merlin quirked an eyebrow at him, "You sure about that?"

Opening his mouth to reply, Arthur paused, then closed it. Letting his head thump against the back of the couch, he stared at the ceiling, "What is happening?"

"I think it's called 'reincarnation'." At Arthur's glare, Merlin had to cough to cover his laugh. It just wasn't as intimidating coming from a teenager, "I'll get that tea."

All the while Merlin was filling the kettle, putting it on to boil, and taking out mugs, Arthur was silent, staring at the ceiling. It was only when he had the warmed ceramic in his hands that he finally spoke.

"I've been having dreams for about a year now. It wasn't all the time, not at first, but lately..." he shook his head. "My dad wants to take me to a doctor, but my mother talked him down."

That made Merlin look up, "Your mother?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes in confusion, but then recognition dawned. "Right, I never knew her before..." he trailed off again, eyes glazing over like he was getting lost inside his own head. Merlin could see how much of a habit that was, trailing off mid-sentence and zoning out like that. He knew Arthur was just processing an entire life of other memories, but it was no wonder his parents were worried.

"How did you know how to find me?"

Blinking, Arthur came out of his daze, "I had another dream tonight. All the other times it was always something that happened... before. But tonight it was this place, how to get here, that you were here. You were in so many of my dreams before, I couldn't talk myself out of coming to see if you were... real."

"I've been waiting here for a very long time, Arthur," Merlin said seriously, "I am very glad you came."

Scoffing lightly, Arthur shuffled uncomfortably under his mound of blankets, "How long can you have possibly been waiting?"

"Hundreds of years."

The blonde looked up sharply, eyes widening, "I thought you- like me, you came back?"

"No, Arthur. I've never died."

"Are you immortal?"

"Probably." Arthur looked like he was about to have a stroke, so Merlin leaned back with a grin and lightly kicked at his leg, "Cheer up. I'm sure we'll be insulting each other and getting into more trouble than we can possibly imagine that I'll inevitably had to save you from in no time at all. It'll be just like old times."

"Hey, I saved your life too!" that indignant voice was just hilarious coming from a teenager.

"Not nearly as much as I saved yours."

"I got you that antidote when you drank from the poisoned chalice!"

"And what guided you out of that cave? Wasn't it a magic light?"

Arthur's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, "I carried you away from the fight when you were wounded at that ambush in the Valley of the Fallen Kings!"

"Yes, and got trapped on the other side of a sudden rockslide that conveniently kept you from being overwhelmed by two dozen mercenaries."

"I stopped the dragon that was attacking Camelot!"

"Which you were _unconscious_ for and now would probably be a good time to mention I have magic specific to dragons."

Arthur threw his free hand up in the air, "Were none of my exploits my own?!"

Merlin sat up straight, alert because the voice that had come out of Arthur just then had been the voice the king had once used to address the entire throne room, deep and penetrating. Arthur apparently noticed it too, if the way he slapped his hand over his mouth in horror was anything to go by.

"That wasn't me," Arthur whispered, eyes wide, hand shaking.

It hit Merlin then, really hit him that this wasn't the Arthur he'd known. Or at least, it wasn't only him. King Arthur was in there, definitely, but he was wrapped in a very, _very_ confused teenager. King Arthur had been raised to the throne all his life, but this teen had not. He hadn't been raised with the code of chivalry, had never been forced to grow up too quickly, or lead groups of soldiers in battle. He'd been raised thinking all those stories were legend and when he'd started to remember, he'd thought he was going mad.

He was going to need a _lot_ of help and he didn't even know yet that his coming meant Albion was in its hour of greatest need.

He needed help that Merlin was more than willing to provide.

"It _is_ you," he insisted, catching Arthur's eye, "It's just not a part you knew about before. You have to learn about it, explore it." Merlin waited for the blonde to nod contemplatively before casually adding, "It's kind of like figuring out you're gay."

Arthur gaped at him for a full five seconds before Merlin finally caved and cracked a grin. He completely expected it when the tea hit him in the face.

"That's rude, do you normally do that when people invite you into their home and make you tea?" he asked, grabbing a nearby towel and wiping the liquid away.

"You deserved it." Arthur grumbled, though he was now scowling at his mug as though realizing that this meant he no longer had any tea for drinking purposes.

"Says you," Merlin fired back, standing and going over to put a hand on Arthur's shoulder. He waited until they made eye contact before saying, "Don't worry, we'll figure it out together. Like we always have."

Then, because he now had the age and size advantage, he retaliated by pouring his tea over Arthur's head.

Apparently forgetting about this advantage, Arthur responded by tackling him to the ground.

Things had changed but, as they wrestled on the floor, Merlin figured that probably wasn't such a bad thing.


End file.
